Gospel Story Finder

I would like to pause for a moment and just share some notes that I made while I was attending a function in the South Pacific just a couple of weeks ago. The counsel received from the prophet should never be taken lightly. The Nuku a’lofa Tonga Stake followed President Kimball’s counsel to organize choirs in every ward and branch and then to invite their neighbors to join with them in these choirs.
Just last month Sister Simpson and I thrilled at this stake’s choir festival. Every unit participated. One small branch came with a choir almost as large as the total branch membership. Each choir had a significant number of nonmembers. At least one choir consisted of one-third investigators. All choirs had recently baptized members singing with them. Almost all of them had been baptized as a direct result of choir participation. They were all dressed in white; they were well trained. It was an outstanding evening of spiritual uplift; it was an outstanding example of the blessings that can come by following the direction of a prophet. Does your ward or branch have a choir? Do you invite nonmembers to participate with you? Let’s DO IT!

Elder Yoon Hwan Choi of the Seventy says two 14-year-old boys brought his family into the restored Church.
Elder Choi was born on May 18, 1957, to Dong Hun Choi and Jeung Soon Lee. His father allowed Elder Choi and his siblings to choose any Christian religion, but they often argued over their different beliefs during dinner. His father wanted to change this. Impressed by the Mormon religion of Elder Choi’s 14-year-old brother, the family listened to the missionaries. After learning about another 14-year-old, Joseph Smith, they were all baptized.

Certainly there are times when firmness, tempered with love, is required. I like the example of a well-known lecturer who, after the speech to a group of college students, was answering questions from the audience. One young man prefaced his question by commenting on some of the negative effects of television on our society. In particular, he mentioned “women and their lousy soap operas.”
The speaker didn’t let the remark pass. “Before I try to answer your question,” he said, with kindness in his voice, “let me say that I am uncomfortable with the feelings you expressed about women and soap operas. I think it’s an unfair and inaccurate stereotype. And even if it were true, we men have enough bad habits of our own that we should be very timid indeed about giving any kind of criticism …” And then he went on in a friendly way.
No one in the audience was offended. In fact, an invisible wave of approval swept through the audience, and, to his credit, the young man nodded, acknowledging that he felt chastened but not offended. The rest of the discussion was very relaxed and open.

“We read and talk about one section of Come, Follow Me during breakfast. It takes just a few minutes, which is good for short attention spans, but it’s enough to get familiar with the topics. Then we review in home evening.” —Nichole E.

In my class at school, there are only two other members of the Church. What we believe is like a new world to some of my classmates. They often ask us questions about the gospel, and some are difficult to answer. If we don’t know the answer to a question, we discuss it together and seek guidance from our Church leaders. Once we know how to respond, we tell our classmates about what we know to be true. I have even invited some of them to come and see for themselves how we worship, and they’ve received good feelings about sacrament meeting.

For 20 years, Brother Huang Juncong struggled with alcohol, cigarettes, and compulsive gambling. When introduced to Jesus Christ and His restored gospel, Brother Huang desired to change for the sake of his young family. His greatest challenge was smoking. A heavy chain-smoker, he had tried to quit many times unsuccessfully. One day these words from the Book of Mormon lodged in his mind: “with a sincere heart, with real intent.” Though previous attempts had failed, he felt perhaps he could change with help from Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

The full-time missionaries united their faith with his and provided an action plan of practical interventions, along with heavy doses of prayer and studying the word of God. With sincerity and real intent, Brother Huang acted with faithful determination and found that as he focused more on the new habits he wished to develop, such as studying the Book of Mormon, he focused less on the habits he wanted to lose.

Recalling his experience from 15 years ago, he remarked, “I don’t remember when exactly I quit smoking, but as I tried hard every day to do the things I knew I needed to do to invite the Spirit of the Lord into my life and kept doing them, I was no longer attracted to cigarettes and have not been since.” Through applying the teachings of the Book of Mormon, Brother Huang’s life has been transformed, and he has become a better husband and father.

“Mom, how can I find a friend?” Connor asked. He watched Mom put down her book.
“There are lots of ways,” she said. “Did you try what we talked about? Smiling at people and talking about your hobbies?”
“Nothing works.” Connor sat on the couch by Mom and twisted his hands together. “I just want a friend. Someone who understands me and will be kind to me.” Connor was feeling sad and lonely, more every day. He had autism, and it was hard finding a friend who was nice to him.
“I’m so sorry,” Mom said. “I know it’s been hard without friends for so long, especially with the bullies at school. Did you try praying about it?”
“No.” Connor sighed.
Mom smiled. “Sometimes friends find us. And sometimes we have to find them.” She put her arm around Connor. “When I was younger, I was really lonely too. I prayed for two years, and then I found a very special friend.”
Connor’s back straightened. “Who did you find? Was it Jamie?”
Mom nodded. “I prayed and looked for someone and found Jamie.”
“She’s your best friend!” Connor felt happier inside. If Mom found a friend by praying, maybe he could too! When he said his prayers that night, he prayed to find someone who also needed a friend.
Connor looked for a friend at school. He looked at the grocery store. He looked at church. And he kept praying.
Connor was walking home one day and saw kids playing outside. They were his new neighbors, the ones who just moved in with their dad and stepmom. Connor didn’t know them very well. One of the boys, Seth, was deaf. He went to a sign language ward for church.
No one else in the neighborhood knew sign language. It must be hard for Seth to feel like he doesn’t have friends to talk to, Connor thought.
Wait! he thought. Seth needs a friend. Just like I do!
Connor found some books at the library about sign language. He practiced everywhere he could. He practiced in the bathroom mirror. He practiced in the car. Soon Connor could sign lots of words.
Then one day Connor knocked on Seth’s big front door. He held a notebook and a sign language book under his arm.
When Seth came to the door, Connor put his hand to his forehead. He kept his fingers close and then moved his hand out, like a salute. Connor had learned that was how to sign hello.
Seth made the sign too. He smiled a little bit. He pointed at the sign language book and raised his eyebrows.
Connor signed, I’m learning sign language. Then he opened the notebook and wrote, “Can you teach me more?”
Seth’s smile got bigger. He waved Connor inside, and they sat in the family room together. They signed back and forth for a few minutes. Connor wrote down questions on the notebook, and Seth wrote his answers below. Seth taught Connor a bunch of new signs. Pretty soon the notebook page was filled.
Connor couldn’t believe it. He was learning sign language with his new friend!
After a few weeks, Connor and Seth didn’t need books or papers anymore. They learned how to understand each other, and they both liked having a kind friend.
“Mom, I did what you told me to do,” Connor said one night after getting back from Seth’s house. “I prayed to find someone who needed a friend and would be mine too. Seth was the one I found!”

Nathan’s fingers smashed the buttons on the controller. He was so close to beating this level! He stared at the TV while his rocket ship dodged the green blasts.
“Nathan, time for dinner!” Mom called.
Bam! Nathan’s ship got hit. Nathan groaned. Now he’d have to restart. But he knew he could beat this level if he tried just one more time.
Dad came into the room. “Did you hear Mom? It’s time to eat.”
Nathan sighed and paused the game. He and Dad sat down with the rest of the family. Nathan ate his food as fast as he could. He wanted to get back to his game.
“Thanks! That was good.” He jumped up from the table.
“Slow down, buddy,” Dad said. “Mom and I want to talk with you.”
Uh-oh. Was Nathan in trouble?
When everyone else was done, Mom and Dad stayed at the table with Nathan.
“We’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time playing video games,” Dad said.
Nathan squirmed. “They’re really fun.”
“That’s true,” Mom said. “But other things are fun too. We missed you yesterday when we were playing games as a family. We always have more fun when you’re with us!”
Nathan had been working on an awesome bonus level last night. By the time he beat it, his family was done playing games. He felt kind of sad he missed it.
Nathan frowned. “Does this mean I’m not allowed to play video games anymore?”
“We’re not saying that,” Dad said. “We just want you to be more aware of how much time you spend on them. And to make sure they’re not keeping you from other important things, like chores and homework and scripture study.”
Nathan looked down. “I guess I have been falling behind on some stuff.”
“We’re sure you can figure out how to find a better balance,” Dad said.
“Could you help me?” Nathan asked.
Mom smiled. “Of course.”
Together, Nathan, Mom, and Dad decided how much video game time Nathan should have each day. Then they came up with a plan. They would put a poster of a stoplight next to the TV. If Nathan could stop playing when Mom and Dad called him, the stoplight would go on yellow. If they had to ask him more than once, it would go on red. And if he could stop on his own before they asked, it would go on green.
Each night before bedtime, they would talk about how Nathan did that day. If the stoplight was on red, he would have less time to play the next day. But if it stayed on green, Mom and Dad would take him to the space museum!
Nathan knew it would be hard to change his habits. But he was ready for the challenge.
For the first few days, the stoplight stayed on yellow. Then Nathan messed up, and it had to go to red. He wanted to try extra hard next time. So the next day, he set an alarm so he would know how long he’d been playing. Finally, he made it to green!
After a few days of green, Mom and Dad took him to the space museum. Nathan stared up at a giant rocket. It looked like the one in his game, but even cooler. He grinned. It was fun to be here with Mom and Dad. He wanted to see how long he could stay on green!
This story took place in the USA.

We take the Friend with us on the plane when we fly to visit our cousins on the East Coast and the West Coast. We read the Friend from coast to coast!

Elder Tyler Dawson and I were asked to reopen the area of Katlehong, south of Johannesburg, in 1994. South Africa was undergoing political and social changes, and it was a period of great uncertainty and violence.
The missionaries had been pulled out of Katlehong for safety reasons a few years before, and we were asked to return and assist the members as possible.
There were some rules though. We lived in a neighborhood outside of our area, and we were not allowed in Katlehong at night, nor were we allowed to walk from home to home; instead, we were only allowed to drive to and from member and investigator homes. We were to phone the police each morning to ask whether it would be safe for us to enter our area. It rarely was safe, and the police would often encourage us to stay away.
Being new to the area, we asked a young man who was the branch president’s son to show us where the members lived. He was reluctant to join us and asked for time to think about it. He later contacted us and agreed to assist us, so we arranged to pick him up from school.
We drove to the agreed spot and he came out from behind a tree, dived in through the back door of the car, and lay down in the footwell. Elder Dawson and I looked at each other somewhat confused and I offered the front seat so that he could have a better view of where we were driving, but he insisted that he was comfortable. Occasionally he would lift his head and direct us as needed. Sometimes he would join us in a member’s home, but at other homes he would stay in the car. We did not press him on this and were just grateful for his help. In this way we got to meet the members of Katlehong. We dropped the young man off at home after a few hours.
I was transferred out of the area but through a series of coincidences happened to pass through a few months later and was able to visit the branch on a Sunday when this young man who had shown us around was giving a talk. I now understand that Heavenly Father wanted me to learn a few things. The young man spoke humbly and sincerely of the experience he had of being asked to show the missionaries around and said that when he was first asked he was very worried because he knew that if he was recognized he could be killed, but he trusted that God would watch over and protect him, and he had faith that he needed to do the Lord’s work, and so he had agreed.
I sat in the congregation astonished at what I had heard. For me he had just been a kid with a bad attitude. That day I began to understand what we had really asked of him and the courage it took for him to answer.

Not long ago I had the privilege of attending a mission presidents’ seminar in San Francisco with Elder David B. Haight of the Council of the Twelve. He shared with us some thoughts from an author about growing old.
“Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years. People grow old only by deserting their ideals. … There is [always] the love of wonder, [a] childlike appetite for what [is] next, and the joy … of life. You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear [or] despair. In the [center] of every heart there is a recording chamber; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, and courage, so long are you young” (Douglas MacArthur, A Soldier Speaks, ed. Vorin E. Whan, Jr. [New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1965], p. 313).

Roberto frowned. This was only his second time at Primary since he had moved from Chile to America, and already his teacher was telling the class she loved him.
How can she say such a thing? Roberto wondered. She does not even know me. And besides, why should anyone love a chubby boy who doesn’t have nice clothes to wear? Tears threatened to fill his eyes as he thought of the many relatives and friends he had left behind in South America. He had been so lonely since his father had died. He and his mother had come to Utah so that she could learn English and attend Brigham Young University.
“I have made each of you a special valentine,” Sister Porter said, handing each child a shiny foil heart on which she had written “I love you.” Roberto took his but shrugged off the hug his teacher tried to give him. Later, when he got home, he tore up the card and threw it in the garbage.
All that week, Roberto felt very sad. During class, he looked out the window and daydreamed about moving back to Chile. He was never going to fit in here.
On Thursday afternoon, Roberto walked home from school. He forgot all about locking the door behind him when he saw a note from his mother taped to the refrigerator: “I’m taking a test. I’ll be back at 5:30. Read the Friends Sister Porter dropped off for you.”
After fixing himself a snack, Roberto began to leaf through the magazines.
First he looked at the pictures. Then he started to read a few stories. After a while he noticed that the sad and lonely feelings were starting to go away.
Then he remembered the unkind things some children had said on the school bus that morning when they thought that he couldn’t hear. One of the children had been in his Primary class! Hurt and anger began to build up inside him again until he looked down at the magazine in his hands. There was a picture of the Savior with little children all around Him. Roberto was surprised to find tears of happiness in his eyes. It was almost as if a voice was saying to him, “Jesus loves you, Roberto.”
A feeling of warmth and love surrounded him, and he knew somehow that the Savior truly did know him and love him. He was filled with hope and an overwhelming assurance that in time he would have many friends in his new school and ward.
Roberto thought back to Sunday and how Sister Porter must have felt when he pulled away from her hug. I will make her a valentine, he decided, jumping up and gathering paper and crayons. Then he remembered the new colored markers his mother had bought for her college classes. They were on top of the highest shelf in the kitchen, and he climbed onto the counter to get them.
Stretching as far as he could, he couldn’t quite reach them. He jumped just a little but lost his balance and fell. Twisting awkwardly, he plunged to the floor and heard an ugly cracking noise as he landed on his left arm.
Never had he felt such pain! His arm felt as if it was on fire. He knew that he should telephone his mother, but as soon as he tried to stand, waves of nausea and dizziness washed over him, forcing him back to the floor.
The clock on the wall read ten to four. Swallowing back the tears, Roberto began a silent prayer, asking Heavenly Father to send someone to help. As he worked up his courage to crawl to the phone, a car pulled into the driveway. His mother! Heavenly Father had sent her home early! But then he heard a knock, and after several moments, a familiar voice called his name.
“Help me!” Roberto yelled. “I’m hurt!”
The door opened and Sister Porter looked in. “What happened?” she asked, hurrying to his side.
“My arm—I think I broke it.” Roberto was embarrassed by his tears, but his teacher didn’t say anything about them as she gently helped him up and made him as comfortable as possible on the couch in the living room.
“Where’s your mother?” she asked him then. “Your arm will need to be X-rayed.” After leaving a message at the university for his mother, Sister Porter sat beside him. “I see you’ve been reading the magazines I sent over. Did you find any stories you really liked?”
Roberto felt a little shy, but talking helped keep his mind off the pain. “I read a lot of the stories, but the best part was finding this picture of Jesus with the little children. I have never seen it before.”
Sister Porter studied the picture, and a very peaceful look came to her face. “I think that this is a special picture, too, Roberto. Whenever I look at it, I feel how much love Jesus has for all children.”
Roberto found himself telling his teacher about his feelings on Sunday and all during the week. Then, somewhat sheepishly, he admitted that he had torn up the valentine he had received in class. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I was going to use my mom’s special markers to make you a valentine. They were up high, and when I climbed up to get them, I fell.”
Sister Porter smiled as she gently patted his cheek. “Crayons will do fine.”
Just then Roberto’s mother came in. “Roberto! Oh Roberto!” She knelt beside him, very tenderly feeling the large lump on his arm. “It must be broken. We will go to the hospital right away.” She looked at Sister Porter with worry and pleading in her eyes. “There will be many insurance papers. My English is not very good. …”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Sister Porter said. “I’ll call my children and have them fix supper. I’ll go with you to the hospital and help you with the papers.”
That evening was a long one. Many people were waiting in the emergency room, and it seemed forever before a nurse called Roberto’s name and he was examined and X-rayed. Never having had a cast before, Roberto felt a bit nervous. But Sister Porter stayed with him the whole time, entertaining him with a story about the time her oldest son had fallen from the backyard swing set and had broken his wrist.
Roberto lay on the examining table after the cast was applied. He was surprised to see that it was almost nine o’clock. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked his teacher. “Doesn’t your family need you?”
“They’ll be fine,” Sister Porter said, producing a granola bar from the depths of her purse. “Feel up to sharing this?”
They ate and talked while they waited for Roberto’s mother. Sister Porter had found a Spanish-speaking nurse to help his mother fill out the insurance forms.
“Do you know why I came to your house this afternoon?” Sister Porter asked.
Roberto shook his head.
“I was on my way home from running errands, and I felt prompted to stop my van. I think you must have been praying for help. Were you?”
“I was! I asked Heavenly Father to send someone. I am very glad He sent you.” Roberto smiled at his teacher.
Sister Porter asked to borrow a red marking pen from one of the nurses passing by.
“What do you need a marker for?” Roberto asked.
Sister Porter winked and uncapped the pen. “In this country, we have a tradition,” she said. “If someone gets a cast, we write nice messages on it. May I be the first to write on yours?”
Roberto nodded, curious and pleased.
Sister Porter drew a large red heart, then wrote I • U in the middle of it. She grinned mischievously. “This one you can’t rip up and throw away!”
“Don’t worry,” Roberto said, his eyes twinkling. “Today I have learned that you really do love me!”

A pleasant young man in his early 20s sat across from me. He had an engaging smile, although he didn’t smile often during our talk. What drew me in was the pain in his eyes.
“I don’t know if I should remain a member of the Church,” he said. “I don’t think I’m worthy.”
“Why wouldn’t you be worthy?” I asked.
“I’m gay.”
I suppose he thought I would be startled. I wasn’t. “And … ?” I inquired.
A flicker of relief crossed his face as he sensed my continued interest. “I’m not attracted to women. I’m attracted to men. I’ve tried to ignore these feelings or change them, but …”
He sighed. “Why am I this way? The feelings are very real.”
I paused, then said, “I need a little more information before advising you. You see, same-gender attraction is not a sin, but acting on those feelings is—just as it would be with heterosexual feelings. Do you violate the law of chastity?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
This time I was relieved. “Thank you for wanting to deal with this,” I said. “It takes courage to talk about it, and I honor you for keeping yourself clean.
“As for why you feel as you do, I can’t answer that question. A number of factors may be involved, and they can be as different as people are different. Some things, including the cause of your feelings, we may never know in this life. But knowing why you feel as you do isn’t as important as knowing you have not transgressed. If your life is in harmony with the commandments, then you are worthy to serve in the Church, enjoy full fellowship with the members, attend the temple, and receive all the blessings of the Savior’s Atonement.”
He sat up a little straighter. I continued, “You serve yourself poorly when you identify yourself primarily by your sexual feelings. That isn’t your only characteristic, so don’t give it disproportionate attention. You are first and foremost a son of God, and He loves you.
“What’s more, I love you. My Brethren among the General Authorities love you. I’m reminded of a comment President Boyd K. Packer made in speaking to those with same-gender attraction. ‘We do not reject you,’ he said. ‘… We cannot reject you, for you are the sons and daughters of God. We will not reject you, because we love you.’”
We talked for another 30 minutes or so. Knowing I could not be a personal counselor to him, I directed him to his local priesthood leaders. Then we parted. I thought I detected a look of hope in his eyes that had not been there before. Although he yet faced challenges to work through—or simply endure—I had a feeling he would handle them well.

My grandfather, Elizio Antônio Honório, had suffered a stroke and was very ill in a hospital in Brazil. The doctors said he had only a small chance of surviving. When I learned of this, I went to my room and asked Heavenly Father what I should do. As I knelt, I felt the presence of the Holy Ghost more powerfully than I ever had before. When I ended my prayer, I felt I should speak with my bishop, so I went to see him.
Though my grandfather is not a member of the Church, I asked the bishop to give him a priesthood blessing. I explained, “I believe in the power of the priesthood, and I believe the Lord can heal him. The Lord has prompted me to ask for this blessing.”
We went to the hospital, and the bishop gave my grandfather a blessing. The following day I visited my grandfather and found him seated on a chair conversing with one of my aunts. He was much improved.
I know this is truly the Church of Jesus Christ. I know the priesthood can bless us if we have faith in its divine power.

All morning Mrs. Stark’s third grade class had talked about the “Favorite Things Fair” that would be held on Friday. Almost everyone in the room had picked out his very favorite thing to bring to school on Friday.
“Hey, Sterling!” Jay called at lunchtime. “What are you going to bring?”
“It’s a secret,” he said.
“Won’t you even tell me?” Jay asked.
“Nope. I want it to be a surprise.” Sterling’s brown eyes twinkled as he thought about his big surprise.
“Please?” Jay pleaded. “I’m bringing my puppets. Now you know my surprise, won’t you tell me yours? I won’t tell anyone!”
“Nope,” Sterling said. “I’ve made up my mind that it’s going to be a real secret. If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”
Just then the bell rang. Jay and Sterling gathered up the balls and bats and ran back to their classroom. “Hey!” Jay shouted to a group of boys just coming through the door. “Sterling won’t tell anyone what he’s bringing to the fair.”
That started the teasing. From then until Friday, Sterling did not have a moment of peace. Everyone kept trying to get him to tell what he was going to bring for the fair. Before school, at lunch, at recess, after school, all the time they kept after him. But Sterling was determined. Every time they asked, he would answer, “A secret is no secret if everyone knows!”
Finally Friday came. It had been hard, but Sterling had not told a single soul that he was taking his pet hamster, Harvey, to the fair. Harvey was Sterling’s very most favorite thing, so it was only right that he should.
But there was one problem. The fair would not be until the afternoon, and if he wanted to keep Harvey a secret, Sterling would have to find a way to hide his pet during the morning.
He thought about putting Harvey in a shoe box. But once Harvey had chewed a hole in a shoe box and had gotten out. Sterling couldn’t take Harvey in his cage, because that would give away the surprise.
Friday morning Sterling sat up in bed thinking very hard. He had kept the secret all week; he didn’t want to spoil it now. Then suddenly he had an idea. He would carry Harvey in his shirt. He had done it many times when he was just playing around, and if he wore a sweater over his shirt, no one would know!
Hurriedly Sterling put on his clothes. He slipped sleepy Harvey in between the buttons on his shirt, put a carrot in for the hamster to snack on, and then he slipped on his brown sweater. It worked! Even Sterling could not see the bump where Harvey was.
He grabbed his books and ran to school. Harvey had cuddled up just over Sterling’s belt and gone back to sleep. This is great! Sterling thought. No one will ever guess until it’s time for the fair.
“Hey, Sterling,” Jay called, “where’s that great big secret? Don’t tell me you forgot it!”
“No, I didn’t forget,” Sterling laughed. “But it isn’t time for the fair yet.”
“I don’t think you really have anything!” Jay said, as he kicked a rock along the sidewalk.
“You’ll see.” Sterling smiled with delight and his brown eyes twinkled. “Everyone will see.”
“Where’s the big surprise?” Lois asked, as Sterling came into the schoolroom.
“It’s not time for the fair yet,” Sterling said. “You’ll have to wait.”
“I’ll bet he doesn’t have anything,” Lois answered.
“You’ll see!” Sterling said.
Just then Mrs. Stark came into the room. “Good morning, boys and girls. It’s time to begin our day,” she said, and e]e stopped talking.
“We will start with our spelling,” Mrs. Stark began.
Sterling was so excited over his surprise that he could hardly sit still, but he knew he must. He patted Harvey under his sweater. Harvey was still asleep.
Spelling time was over, recess had ended, and the only thing left to do before lunch was math. Sterling pulled his book out of his desk. As he did so, it hit Harvey and woke him up. Sterling could feel the hamster nibbling on the carrot. His whiskers brushed Sterling’s stomach. It tickled! Sterling tried not to laugh, but Harvey kept nibbling and tickling his stomach. Finally he couldn’t hold a laugh back any longer. Mrs. Stark looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Sterling covered his mouth and pretended to cough. Mrs. Stark went back to writing on the blackboard.
Sterling started to write the day’s assignment, but Harvey had decided to do a little exercising. He began to run around Sterling’s waist. Harvey’s tiny feet tickled even more than his whiskers.
Sterling bit his lip and held his breath, but Harvey kept running. The more he ran the more it tickled; the more it tickled the more Sterling wanted to laugh.
“Be still, Harvey!” Sterling whispered. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not keep from laughing.
“Sterling Connell!” Mrs. Stark said in a disapproving voice. “What is so funny?”
Sterling grabbed his mouth and tried very hard to stop laughing, but now Harvey was crawling straight up his chest. It tickled even more!
Mrs. Stark walked back to Sterling’s desk. Now she was really cross. “What is the matter with you?” she asked.
Sterling opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was another laugh. Mrs. Stark was bewildered.
Everyone was looking at Sterling. Again he covered his mouth and tried to stop laughing, but it was no use. Harvey was climbing over his ribs! Now Harvey’s feet and whiskers were tickling Sterling.
“What is the matter?” Mrs. Stark repeated impatiently. Then Jay, who sat behind Sterling, began to laugh too. Harvey was on Sterling’s shoulder and his little head was peeking out of Sterling’s collar. Soon almost everyone except Mrs. Stark had seen Harvey. They all laughed. Then finally Mrs. Stark saw Harvey too. Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, my!” she gasped.
Everyone laughed even harder. Mrs. Stark looked around the room and then she laughed too.
Sterling pulled Harvey out of his shirt. “Harvey is my favorite thing for the fair,” he said.
“Did you have him in your shirt all morning?” Mrs. Stark asked.
“Yes, I wanted to surprise everyone.”
“You did!” Jay laughed.
Mrs. Stark nodded her head. “You surely did. I’ve never been so surprised in my life!”
Sterling smiled and his brown eyes twinkled with delight. “I guess I was more surprised than anyone!”

One choice source on my ancestors was prepared by a remarkable woman in 1888. She labored without any doctrinal understanding or the abundant resources we have. Following impressions of the heart, her persistence and extensive correspondence produced a 16,000-name lineage-linked treasury of information about our Talbot family. My mother obtained this record. A descendant, Cathy Frost, with two preschool children and expecting another, is computerizing those names. My wife, Jeanene, and I will personally clear them for temple work using the simplified helps I’ve described today. Our family will go to the temple for these ancestors.

“A Blessing in My Life”
Blessing Nwakaego Okoronkwo felt drawn to the Gathering Place in her stake in Nigeria because she wanted to learn a skill—in particular, catering—that would benefit her financially.
“In the class, we learned amazing things,” she says. “I tried to take the class very seriously. I tried not to miss even once, and I always had my notebook and my pen.”
During one class in her Port Harcourt Nigeria North Stake, she and other students learned to make chin chin, a crunchy deep-fried snack popular in Nigeria, Ghana, and other West African nations. Blessing also learned to make peanut snacks.
“I decided to buy my ingredients and practice in my house what I had been taught,” she says. When she took her finished product to the school where she teaches, “Everybody was like, ‘Wow!’”
That prompted her to begin selling her snacks—in small quantities at first and then in larger quantities. Her little business quickly proved successful.
“It’s been amazing!” she says. “I’ve been really blessed by the Gathering Place.”
Blessing encourages others to take advantage of the opportunities that have blessed her. “Just put in your best effort,” she says.

What is it really like to be handicapped? What problems do the handicapped face every day? Helen Lesley Chick, 17, of the Hobart Australia Stake found out. She won regional, state, and national awards for her investigation of the problems of paraplegics.

For her first-hand investigation, Helen spent a week in a wheelchair (which she borrowed from her grandmother). Her week-long experience was a time of aching arms and shoulders as well as clashes with walls and people. Of her self-imposed confinement to a wheelchair, Helen says, “On the first day I wanted to give it up. It was so hard pushing along on the carpet.”

Sponsored by the Junior Chamber of Commerce, the award was presented to Helen in Canberra by the Governor-General of Australia, Sir Zelman Cowan.

Helen is the Laurel class president in her ward and her seminary class president. She is studying to be a math and science teacher. In her spare time, she enjoys playing hockey, bushwalking, and cycling.

One of the choice privileges of a General Authority is perhaps thirty or forty times a year to visit the stakes of the Church and to be guests in the homes of stake presidents. I am certain we have seen firsthand some of the greatest homes there are in all the world.
I remember being assigned to a conference some time ago in a stake where the president was a dentist. It was evident from his home and furnishings he had a successful practice. I guess he could have given his children almost anything they could have wanted. However, he loved them enough to teach them responsibility. He moved from the city out into a rural area, where he was teaching his family the value of work.
How I enjoyed sitting with the children and having them describe the projects they had been assigned the responsibility for. With pride they would tell me how many eggs per day the chickens were producing, or how high the corn was, or how the cattle were in the field. This family had as their motto the 88th section of the Doctrine and Covenants, 119th verse: “Organize yourselves; prepare every needful thing; and establish a house, even a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God.”

I have a photograph of my dad and me. It was taken at my Eagle Scout court of honor the summer before last. It is the last picture taken of my father before he became a quadriplegic. The court of honor was on a Saturday night. My father and I stood next to each other, his arm around me, while my mom pressed the button capturing us on film.
The next week I went to the beach with my parents, two younger sisters, and my friend Matt. Loaded down with baskets and blankets we journeyed to the beach. We found a good spot where there were not too many people around. My friend and I dropped everything and made a mad dash for the ocean. The water was warm, and the sky was clear. The waves did not look at all threatening. Everything was fine. We were swimming, body surfing the waves, and having seaweed fights. We were walking back to find our spot when I saw my dad go into the water. I decided to go back in and join him for a little body surfing.
We were standing next to each other, talking and waiting for the next wave. When it came, we both took it. My friend Matt was off somewhere swimming. I pulled out of it before it got too shallow. “Dad, did you have a good ride?” No answer. I looked around and I could not see him. I thought he was under the water and was going to grab my legs or something. Then I saw him. “Dad! Dad!” He was floating on his stomach, only his shorts and back visible.
I fought through the water to get to him. I remember thinking that he had to be all right because nothing like this could happen to us. I reached him and struggled to turn him over onto his back so he could breathe. This whole time I had been yelling, “Dad! Dad!” over and over again. I got him turned over and as his eyes met mine, my whole body shook with fear. There was no expression on is face, but I saw terror and panic in his eyes. At that moment a wave struck us, sending me reeling and tearing him from my arms. I fought back to the surface, but my father was not in sight. I started screaming, “Matt, help me find my dad! Find my dad! Help me find my dad!” I knew we had to find him before another wave came. I knew his life was in our hands.
I had no feeling at this time. I just knew we had to find him. We spotted his swimming suit a little ways off. We struggled through the water to reach him. I could see a wave coming and I felt like I was in some dream where people are chasing you but your feet are stuck to the ground. We reached him just before a wave hit us. Turning him over, we each grabbed under an arm and began to drag him in. This whole time we had been yelling for help. Two men appeared and then a lifeguard, and they helped us drag him onto the shore. I noticed that he was very white and that his lips were blue. His eyes were open and focused right on me. The lifeguard kept asking him to blink if he heard him, but his eyes just stared into mine.
All of a sudden my stomach just dropped. I had this wrenching feeling and I felt sick. I have never been so scared. I knew he must have a broken neck or back. He had some blood on his forehead so I guessed it must be his neck. We got him onto the shore, and before I knew it we were surrounded by lifeguards. They backed me off and began to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
My mother had no idea of what was happening. I told Matt to run and get her. I did not want to leave my dad. I was walking around in a circle, sick with fear. I saw one of the lifeguards put her ear to his chest. They began to do CPR. They began to pound on his chest. I lost it. I knew he was dead. I knew that his heart had stopped. I started hollering, “No way, this can’t be happening! No way! No way!” A lifeguard came up to me and said, “You’re not going to help him by getting mad.” I knew he was right, but my staying calm would not help him either. Nothing I could do was going to help him.
By this time there was a huge crowd of people and more kept coming. I saw my mom running towards me. She did not know what had happened, but seeing all the people gathered she imagined the worst.
She was right; it was the worst. I ran to meet her. She was in hysterics, yelling at me to tell her what was wrong. Through the crowd she could see the lifeguards giving him CPR. She tried to go to him, but I held her back. She grabbed me and began sobbing.
A lifeguard came to us to tell us what was happening. By now the paramedics had arrived, and I saw them pull out electric shock devices, the kind you see in movies. He was dead, and they were trying to shock him back into life. All the strength went out of me and I almost fell to the ground. I could not watch anymore. I turned away. My mom still clung to me. She was talking and crying, but I couldn’t understand her.
One of the lifeguards came over to tell us that they got his heart beating. I felt no relief from this. By this time they had a tube in his mouth giving him oxygen because he was not breathing on his own. People were coming up to my mom and asking her if they could pray for him. I wanted to comfort her and act old and mature and tell her everything was going to be all right. But the only thing I could do was hold her and let her cry.
He lay there on the beach for about an hour with the lifeguards working on him. He was still unconscious, and his heart was very unstable. They slowly put him into the ambulance, and my mom got in also. I remember just standing there watching it drive away, wondering what our life was going to be like from then on.
He did have a broken neck and a severed spinal cord. The cord was severed so high that not only was he totally paralyzed from the neck down, but he was also unable to breathe on his own. At first some doctors told us that he would never be able to talk again or even come home to live. However, after six long, difficult months in a rehabilitation center, he was able to come home. Because of special equipment, he can breathe, talk, and even control a powered wheelchair. By sipping and puffing, he can make his chair do anything he wants.
He has been home for ten months now. It is great to be a family again. However, all of our lives have been affected by what has happened. We, as a family, are maintaining all of his care. I have had to assume many responsibilities. I do many things for him that he used to be able to do on his own.
Through all of this my dad has had the best attitude. He never seems mad or discouraged about what has happened, and he never complains about it. He just accepts it and lives his life to the best of his ability. He has been the ultimate example to me. If he can cope with this without getting discouraged and complaining, then it seems to me that all my problems are nothing.
My dad has accomplished many things in his life. At the time of his injury, he was president of our stake. I’m sure that it is a great comfort to him now that he has done so many things. This teaches me not to waste away a moment of my life. You never know what is going to happen to you. Also, before his accident, I was never sure what I was going to do with my life. Now, with all of the care I have rendered to him, I feel that I would like to become a doctor. This terrible accident has, in fact, affected me in a positive way.
I have another photograph of me and my dad. It was taken last summer outside in our front yard. I am standing next to him with my arm around him, and he is sitting in his wheelchair. As I compare the two pictures I can see the difference. It is not that he is in a wheelchair. Others probably couldn’t see the change, but to me, we are not the same people who were in a similar picture a year before. There has been a physical change, but the true change has occurred within. I deeply sense it whenever I look at the last photograph.